


Re-Defining, for the Sake of Progress

by LittleSammy



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:25:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSammy/pseuds/LittleSammy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His father's visit stirs up restlessness in Tony, and he isn't quite sure yet what the heart of the matter is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Re-Defining, for the Sake of Progress

**Author's Note:**

> Set directly after 8x09 "Broken Arrow", and yes, mild spoilers for that episode. And I'd really like to get off the Fluff Train now, please. Can I upgrade my ticket to the Angst Express?

Tony made it back to the Yard around noon, and if he tried being truthful with himself for once he was actually pretty thankful everyone else seemed to be out on lunch break. His head was still spinning and he had no idea how to stop that. Because on top of all the things life had dealt him over the past couple of days, his dad had surprised him after all, and that had left a dent in Tony's habit of going for none-expectations. Two minutes of talking, of honest-to-God emotion, and those had been enough to throw Tony so completely out of whack that he wasn't comfortable anymore.

He had no idea how he was supposed to feel about his dad now. About his way of handling things and his way of going through life that sometimes made Tony seem like a grownup in comparison. Because that was a downright freaky feeling and one he didn't particularly care to get used to. He just didn't know how to feel about any of this any longer.

Except for the photo. That part had left him strangely warm and fuzzy inside, and safe, and he was pretty sure that he hadn't felt like that around his dad since... well, since that particular fishing trip, to be honest.

But, as Ziva would have said, that was the past and the past was the past, and sometimes one fond memory wasn't enough to cover being weirded out and angry and embarrassed and... too many other things he actually didn't want to think too closely about. He just wished that they'd started talking sooner. And yeah, he was still pissed that his dad had refused to spend an evening with him, because that could have turned out nice. Talk was cheap. Dinner, sometimes, was cheaper.

He checked his emails and found one from McGee with an attached screenshot from last night's surveillance video. Tony felt his teeth grind while he deleted it. 

Ziva in that dress? The stuff of many interesting dreams. 

But certainly not while his dad's hand was splayed all over her ass.

*** *** ***

His mind was still distracted by the time Ziva returned from lunch, and it didn't get any better when he heard her laugh. He raised his head just in time to see her stare at her screen with mirth all over her face. Probably her Miami boyfriend-who-is-just-a-friend, saying something witty. Because that's what witty guys with impressive security clearance did.

And yeah, he'd told her it made him glad that the guy made her laugh. Except that it didn't, not really. Not when he thought too closely about it, and never mind the fact that he'd been actively trying to avoid thinking any closer about it than absolutely necessary. Because if he would, he'd find that he wanted to be the one to make her laugh like that.

"What's so funny?" And he wanted to smack himself for asking and for needing to hear it and for drifting closer to her before he'd even noticed it. It happened so often these days, but that didn't make it any better, and he just hoped that his face didn't give anything away when she turned her head and glanced at him over her shoulder, still smiling. 

"Your father," she said and opened the email she'd been looking at again, showing him the same screenshot McGee had sent him. "He's not one to let a chance slide, no?"

"No," Tony agreed and forced his mouth into a disgustingly amiable smile. _Unlike his son._

*** *** ***

He snapped a few hours later, when he was in evidence lock-up with Ziva and going through stuff with her on Gibbs's order. It was a stupid case they had already solved half a year ago, and God knows why they had to look at all these damn bags again. Maybe the boss had wanted Tony out of his sight after his senior field agent had chewed on his bad mood for a few hours longer and had already yelled at McGee twice and once at Palmer, who still had the unfortunate tendency to stick his head where it didn't belong.

Tony wasn't sure later what had provoked his sudden outburst, just that the downhill slide of their conversation began rather harmlessly with Ziva reaching into her pocket and then snapping her fingers.

"I forgot to give Fred the receipt for the dress," she said, shaking her head and staring at a slip of paper, seemingly lost in thought. And for some reason Tony suddenly slammed the carton he'd gone through shut again and rammed it back into the shelf with more force than necessary 

"Does _everybody_ get to keep their undercover garb?" he pressed out through gritted teeth, and God, he was so tense now he wanted to hit something. Hard. "I need to do more frickin spy jobs."

He felt Ziva's gaze heavy on him, and he knew that she was staring at him curiously now, and yeah, she was right, he shouldn't have said it, he shouldn't have let it out at all, he should have kept it buried were it always was and where it didn't distract or hurt anyone. Except that burying things these days seemed to lose its effectiveness for him.

"The dress was mine to begin with," she said quietly. "This is just a receipt for the dry-cleaning."

He blinked, still staring at the mistreated box in his hands and refusing to turn around now because he knew the look she'd have on her face now - the look she usually gave him when he had just made an ass out of himself. And today was not a good day to face that expression.

"Oh," he said instead and grabbed the next box, ignoring the way she was too quiet behind him now. "Well, you looked good in it."

And again that was something he shouldn't have said because it just wasn't what he usually did. It broke the DiNozzo pattern, and it made her suspicious, and it drew her attention to the cards he'd have rather kept close to his chest, just in case she was cheating.

"Tony," she said with a curious tone to her voice. He didn't react and kept flipping through bag after bag instead, without another word and without much attention. When he didn't reply, she came closer, and God, she wasn't even touching him yet, but his back stiffened anyway because he couldn't deal with this today. He really didn't want her concern or her pity or whatever it was that turned her voice into something soft now. "What is on your mind? You've been acting strange ever since your father arrived, and I thought it was because of him. But now he's gone, and you still..."

"Nothing's wrong."

She hesitated behind him, and Tony kept staring at the bag with a pair of socks in his hand, refusing to look at his partner. And she really was too close, and he was too confused, and it wasn't fair of her to corner him like that when he couldn't think straight enough to keep up the walls they had between them.

"I don't want you flirting with my dad." Really not fair.

He wasn't sure which one of them was more shocked by the words tumbling from his mouth, quite unexpectedly. Ziva, though, was the first to recover, even though she only managed a confused "What?" in reply.

"You heard me," he pressed out through his teeth, and he squared his back and stared at the socks in his hand until he lost himself in the pattern of the fabric.

"One," she replied carefully, "I wasn't flirting with him. He did the flirting." And yeah, he'd have to give her that, but that didn't change the fact that she had hugged his old man quite a bit and she never-- 

He took a deep breath and strangled the thought before it was even halfway there.

"And two... I fail to see how this is any of your business." She ended on a soft note this time, her voice inquisitive and curious, and he knew exactly what kind of look she was giving him right now, even though he still had his back turned to her. She wasn't mad yet, and she really wanted to know what was going on in his head. 

And she actually expected an answer from him. 

Except that he couldn't give her one because that would require honesty and bravery and emotion, and he didn't have any of these lying around today. 

"I don't want you to be my next step mom." Or at least he thought he didn't.

Only silence answered him at first, and he blinked and stared at the rolled-up socks in his hand until his eyes felt fuzzy and his head hurt, thinking that he'd never be a sane and stable person, and most certainly he'd never stop being stupid. 

And then Ziva suddenly laughed, very gently. "I can assure you, Tony, that will never happen."

He turned his head to look at her now, searching her face, and for once she didn't shut down and didn't deflect and didn't cover up what she really thought. And yeah, she'd been honest -- there was only mild amusement in her expression, and he suddenly knew that his dad would never get more than these hugs from her, despite the bucketloads of charm he'd been heaping on her. And just like that, Tony DiNozzo discovered the real reason why he was so upset. Because there had been the off chance that Ziva might have chosen his dad before she'd allow the son to make a move. 

He turned to really face her, and while he did, he watched her expression -- still open, still allowing him in. And he realized that he really wanted her to--

"So what would make it my business?" _Oh God, just shut up already._

She blinked, caught unaware by the words that once again fell out of his mouth. And then suddenly something flashed across her face that he hadn't expected -- fondness, tinged with just a little bit of yearning.

His pulse turned into a dull throb in his temples suddenly, and maybe something in his expression gave him away because for a second Ziva looked wary and a little bit shocked. But then she tilted her head playfully, and yeah, it was obvious she'd just made up her mind about something, and Tony's pulse jumped even harder when she replied, "Well. Flirting with me yourself would be a good start."

And he suddenly realized that she was actually right about that: he never _had_ flirted with her in earnest. He'd given her jokes, and he'd leered at her, and oh yeah, he'd really, really stared at her butt when she hadn't been looking, more often than he cared to admit. But he'd never gone for it and he'd never told her that he thought she was gorgeous and that she sometimes made him feel all tingly, even though it was the truth. Because so far he'd thought she'd laugh at him. 

Except, maybe, she wouldn't.

This time it was his face that showed shock, and Ziva, seeing it, realized with a start what she had just said to him, what she -- like him -- hadn't planned on letting out, and just like he usually did she tried to step back now and brush if off with a smile. But for some reason Tony wasn't ready to let that happen, and so he reached for her before she could retreat from his personal space. 

Grabbing her wrist disturbed her balance, and it surprised him how she suddenly ended up pressed against his chest. Her scent was in his nose, and her hand came up to his chest, maybe to push him away, but she never got around to it because she kept staring at his mouth and getting distracted by it. And yeah, he tried to let go of her hand and step back himself, but there wasn't enough room to do that, and it was strange how heavy tiny Ziva felt against his chest.

He had no idea how they ended up like they eventually did, but there was a point when he felt her lips warm and soft and so very relaxed against his, and it turned into another shock for him that she moved into his touch as easily and effortlessly as if they had already done this a hundred times before.

It was a simple caress, even though he did get a hint of her taste, and it stayed simple for the minute it lasted -- a curious meeting, a slightly hesitant exploration. But there was a smile tugging at her lips when the kiss ended, and her eyes stayed fixed on his mouth, and Tony felt breathless and giddy all of a sudden because she wasn't about to hurt him for crossing that line.

"That wasn't exactly flirting," she said.

"No," he agreed, and then his grin widened. "But you're not exactly opposed to it."

She laughed while she finally stepped out of his reach, and the low, throaty chuckle he had heard from her so often never had quite the same ring to it before. There was no verbal answer to his observation, but it was okay because just like one worn, old picture, this simple thing had been enough to improve his mood vastly. And this time he didn't care at all that it made his head spin.

They finished their checkup in comfortable silence, and while he rode back up to the bullpen with her, he saw the reflection of her face in the shiny elevator doors. A smile ghosted over her lips every now and then, and Tony saw his own reflection mirror her wistful expression. 

He wasn't sure at which floor he began to entertain the thought that maybe she would smile at him like that some more if he, say, bought her flowers later. For a start.


End file.
